“By George, she’s got it!” squealed Claire — prompting a fit of giggles in Alison — which made her retch and spit Bradley’s dick out — a long gloopy string of saliva following in its wake.
“Don’t make me fucking laugh!” scolded Alison, scowling, before slowly recommencing her long slow gradual descent towards Bradley’s abdomen again.
Claire was grinning from ear to ear, and she murmured loving words of encouragement: “Oh, that’s beautiful… My baby’s learning to be a deepthroat whore! Isn’t that amazing? How does it feel being the first cock to touch Alison’s tonsils, Brad?”
Brad responded with contented noises rather than vocabulary. Soon Alison could feel his cock expand and twitch, his glans became harder than ever against the back of her humming, gurgling mouth, and her tongue felt the veins in the underside of his shaft throb stronger than ever. She looked up into his eyes questioningly, seeking confirmation. He nodded in ecstasy.
“Can you take it, Al?” he asked solicitously.
Alison did not dare to try to respond with either words or gesture, but kept caressing Bradley’s glans with her throat, opening her mouth wider to receive the promised load. And when at last Bradley’s cock bucked and twitched and released its precious cream, there seemed nothing more natural than to let the salty load flow into her throat, and down, deep down…
There was silence from Brad and Claire, both awestruck by what they had witnessed. A dribble of semen and spit seeped out of Alison’s lips as Bradley slowly withdrew his cock. Tears of joy and admiration poured from Claire’s eyes. Bradley remained characteristically silent, even as he grinned in quiet commendation of Alison’s new-found skill. But Claire found her tongue, in more ways than one, and kissed Alison deep, sharing the dregs of Bradley’s jizz as she crooned, “Oh my beautiful clever girl! My sexy fucking deepthroat whore…”
Silently, calmly, Bradley smiled and wiped off his cock. Leaving the two lovers wallowing in the pleasure of his cum and each other’s bodies, he let himself out.
~
BOOM! The sky was exploding, for it was Bonfire Night in London.
Remember, remember the fifth of November!
Gunpower, treason and COCK!
exclaimed Claire.
“Plot,” corrected Alison.
“What?” said Claire, as they wandered together across Regents Park, enjoying the traditional early-winter festival, lit by exuberant displays of fireworks in the greying sky. The park and the streets were full of all the usual festivities: bonfires, sausages and marshmallows toasted in the fire, toffee apples on sticks, and great sticky slabs of parkin cake sold on every corner. It was a chilly late afternoon, and the sun was setting, so there was somewhat less fucking in the park than usual. Claire and Alison were sharing some toasted marshmallows, feeding them to each other mouth-to-mouth, letting them smear lusciously over each other’s lips, and then licking each other’s faces clean with long tongues.
“Pwo’,” repeated Alison through a mouthful of marshmallow, “not ‘cock’.”
“‘Plot’? What the fuck’s that mean?” said Claire. “Gunpowder, treason andplot?” She pronged a marshmallow on her middle finger and stuck it up in an obscene gesture, before starting to suck and nibble it off lasciviously.
“It’s all to do with Guy Fucks,” explained Alison knowledgeably. “There, look — ‘penny for the Guy’!” said Alison, pointing out a stuffed effigy being wheelbarrowed across the park toward a bonfire. The Guy was dressed as a tramp, but with a huge dildo sticking out of its crotch. A gaggle of squealing girls was taking it in turns to impale their pussies on the Guy’s “cock” whilst repeating, “Gunpower, treason and COCK! Gunpower, treason and COCK!”
“See, I told you it was ‘cock’!” riposted Claire self-righteously.
“No, no, that’s not how it goes! It’s because in the olden days, there was this king, see…”
But Alison never finished her history lesson, for she was interrupted by a shout from the direction of the girls: “‘Ey, Alison!”
Alison knew at once who it was. “Alison, I was on me way to see ya! Is ‘at okay?” Riley peeled off from her group of friends — Alison briefly recognised Amber, Teresa and Belle — and came dancing up to Alison and Claire, a toffee apple on a stick clutched in her hand.
“Riley! Good to see you! But hey, we were just enjoying the party. Wanna sit down with us somewhere here?”
The three girls found a bench to sit on. Actually, Claire and Alison did — but Riley continued dancing excitedly on her toes, saying, “Watch this! watch this, Alison! Look wha’ I’ bin practisin’!” She bent over, flipped her skirt up to display her naked bottom, spread her buttocks, and slowly squeezed her warm steaming toffee apple into her gaping ass, grinning from ear to ear as she turned to watch Alison’s reaction. The fruit disappeared into the depths of her rectum, her sphincter closed around the stick, and gloopy golden-brown caramel dribbled off the rim of her asshole to smear the inside of her buttocks.
“Oh fuck, Riley — that’s beautiful!” exclaimed Claire. “Let me eat some of that!”
“D’ya fink I’m good enough for the RAF?” asked Riley, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm as, still gripping the stick on which the apple was impaled, she bore down, letting the fruit slowly gape her asshole-rim apple-wide again, before it plopped out with a soft low-pitched fart and another copious dribble of caramel.
“Of course you are: you’re amazing” said Alison, as Riley reached between her buttocks, scraped up a handful of toffee, and held it out for Claire to slurp up. “Why don’t you apply?”
“Why don’ I apply?” replied Riley, taking a bite of her apple. “You shittin’ me? ‘Coz it’s too fuckin’ expensive! It costs five fousand euros just to audition! No way can I afford that!”
“Can’t your parents help? What do they do?”
“Don’ ‘ave no dad — ‘e pissed off years ago, before I was born. Me mum spent the last of ‘is animoly money GM’ing me arsehole. She works at the glory’ole station — ya know, on Maryleboner? The pay’s shit — she barely makes enough to put food on the table. Sometimes at weekends I work there too, ‘coz I’m good at deepfroatin’. But ‘ow can people like us livin’ on a fuckin’ council estate, ya know, improve our lot in life if we can’ even afford to audition? It’s like becomin’ a proper posh fucker like you is only for rich people!”
“Well, that just wrong!” replied Alison indignantly. “Becoming a fucker shouldn’t depend upon how much money you have!”
“Well I know that, and you know that,” said Riley. “But can ya do anyfink abou’ it? Is there a way round?”
They paused.
“I have an idea,” said Claire, nodding with satisfaction as she looked pensively into the distance.
“Oho! That’s new!” said Alison mockingly.
“Wha’ is i’?” asked Riley curiously.
But instead of answering, Claire suddenly stood up, shouting “Jesus fucking Christ, what the motherfuck…!” and pointing into the distance. “Look!”
“What?!” said Alison standing up. Both she and Riley peered in the direction in which Claire was pointing.
“Chad!” snarled Claire.